Sherlock is the victim this time
by EffieTrinkxt
Summary: When Moriarty is back, Sherlock gets a text message. A quite disturbing one. The game starts again. Who plays it better this time?


**Hello all! A new story, a sherlock one. Well i'm not English, I'm Dutch. So please don't look at the grammar too much, and just enjoy the story. I hope you like it!**

**Lots of love, me**

"Well. Why aren't you with Mary? She is highly pregnant, you know." Sherlock said as he fiddled with his fingers. There was something in the air, something was very wrong. "Why did you wanted us too be together, Sherlock. I mean I'm happy with her, but if you didn't send us too bakerstreet after- well you know, we would be together now." John said and looked too Sherlock. "You were happy with her, John. She didn't change."

"She did!" He yelled across the table as he jumped up. "O god she did!" He felt the heat running up too his cheeks. Sherlock turned the fork in his fingers. He opened his mouth to reply at the yelling, but his phone buzzed in his pants. "Let me just take this," he took the phone and saw that it wasn't some one who was calling, but a text message.

_'Stayin' alive, that's the thing. Maybe you want too check the wife. _

_JM' _

He jumped up. "John come!" He took his coat of the chair and slipped in it. "Why? Whats the problem?" John asked carefully, and slipped in his coat too." But Sherlock already ran out of the apartment. Mrs Hudson just came up the stairs with a plate with sandwiches. "Thank you, mrs Hudson!" John said and took one of the plate. "Please be careful boys!" She yelled when the door closed with a bang.

"Taxi! Taxi!" Sherlock yelled and ran on to the street. "Sherlock? What's the matter? Murder?" John yelled with his mouth full with chicken sandwich. "No!" He yelled and a cab finally stopped. "It's Moriarty."

John frowned and they got in to the cab. "He is dead, Sherlock. It isn't him. Someone -maybe some hater or something, that happens when you are famous- is just teasing you."

Sherlock laughed. "Of course, why didn't I thought of that? I saw him kill himself in my arms but he is alive now." Sherlock took a deep breath. "You saw me die, he is just as clever."

"I was half-unconscious." Sherlock turned away from John and knocked on the window too the driver. "Faster! It's an emergency!" The cab speeded up. "Mary could be dying. She is your wife, John."

John looked up from his lap, and almost choked in the last piece of chicken in his mouth. "What? What did you say?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You need to really listen, thats why you have ears. But, anyways, this." Sherlock almost pushed his phone in johns face. "It's not Moriarty." John repeated. "Jim is the only one who could know about that song! He played it on the rooftop. No one could know." John had never seen Sherlock like that. He was frowning and his fingers were tapping on his lap fast. He was actually concerned. Sherlock, who denied he had feelings, actually cared about someone who shot him. "She could be dying, Moriarty is playing a game again. He never does something without a good reason. He is the perfect serial killer, but he prefers to be not called like that."

The cab slowed down in front of Mary and john's house. Sherlock jumped out of the cab and ran to the front door. "Mary? Mary!" He yelled as he knocked on the door. John gave the driver his fee and jogged too Sherlock. "Mary open the door! Are you okay?!" John pushed Sherlock out of the way. "I can open the door, i live here." He said as he unlocked the door. He cared about mary too, or he must care about her. She carried his baby. "Mary?!" They yelled at the same time. "I'm going too the bedroom," Sherlock said and John nodded. "I'm going too the kitchen."

Sherlock ran up the stairs. Moriarty must be here, he thought. "Clear!" He heard John yell out of the kitchen. He laid his hand onto the cold door nob. He opened the door slightly. He peeked through. Mary laid on the bed. Dead? He thought. No, she is breathing. So she couldn't be dead. He walked inside and checked the windows, corners, for anything, just anything, Moriarty could left behind. But deep in the back of his head he knew that Moriarty was too clever too just left something behind. He would only do it on propose. "Sherlock! Is it clear there?" John yelled. "Mary is in here john," Sherlock said, too softly for john too properly hear him. He crouched next too Mary, and took her pulse. Just normal, for when you were sleeping. John peeked around the corner with his head. "Is... Is she okay, Sherlock?" He asked softly. Sherlock frowned uneasily when he nodded. "He didn't just send me that text too annoy me, it couldn't be," he stood up again. "We have too go."

"Why?" John asked. "She is okay, the house is okay, we are okay. It's safe here."

"It's not!" Sherlock lost his temper, what he didn't often do. Or actually never. He balled up his hands. "We have too go!"

"Sorry sorry," John said softly, almost whimpering. "We will go then."

Sherlock took a breath. "Yes."

It was not that Sherlock was strong, not at all actually. But the adrenaline was pumping trough is veins, so he could do anything. Or he felt like that. He slipped his hands under Mary's knees and under her back. He heard a click sound. That bastard. A weight system. He had to know that. If he would lift her up, something would happen. "John, john please look under the bed." He didn't move, what if he laid her back and it would still happen? It was a chance of 1, but still. "Why?" John asked when he pushed the blankets aside and looked under the bed. "Pipes?" He murmured. "There are pipes." He looked up too Sherlock, whom forehead was shiny from sweat. "Goddammit." Sherlock hissed under his breath. "Why didn't i thought of that, call Lestrade. Tell him too get an ambulance. And firefighters, i don't know what is going to happen, john, i just don't know." John bit his lip. "You want me to go outside, don't you?" Sherlock nodded softly. "Yes, yes please. Yell when you called, okay?"

"I can't leave you here, for god sake!" John yelled. "I want to help." Sherlock sighed, irritated. "You will help enough too go outside."

"No." He said again, but then looked at sherlock. He was clearly in desperation. "Okay then, be carefull." John walked out of the room, down the stairs, biting his lip hard. What would happen? Would he lose his best friend? Would it be okay? He called Lestrade. "Its Moriarty again." John said before greg could say a thing. "Where do we need to come?"

"My house." John sighed and hang up. "Sherlock, i called!" He yelled.

Sherlock heard him yell. There were quite some options that could happen. They could explode. Or worse. Moriarty could do anything.

He lifted her up and there was a snake like sound. Sherlock began too run. He saw gas spreading around him, and tried not too breath. But when he was almost by the staircase, he had to breath. He breathed in and nothing happened. He was half down the stairs, when his lungs felt if they were burning. He coughed and ran down the stairs. "Sherlock?!" John yelled. He ran towards the light of the open door.

He stepped outside. He laid Mary down on the wet grass coughing. "Sherlock? Are you okay?" John asked. Sherlock waved with his hand, as sign it was okay. He was still coughing, it seemed he was trying to get his lungs out. Breathing got more difficult each second. Black dots began to dance in front of his eyes. His legs became mush and he fell onto the asphalt, probably in the middle of the road. "Sherlock!" He turned on his back, and tried to get up. He couldn't lose from Moriarty. A pair of cold hands pushed him down, he looked up and the last thing he saw, with in the background the sound of sirens, was the pair of cold eyes of Moriarty.

_The blackness spread around him. Softly, gentle. Like a hug, a hug he needed to desperately when he was a kid. The black arms wrapped around him, first soft, then harder. It became painful and he stared too scream. He struggled and tried to get free. "Let me go!" The Arms did what he asked, he could breath, free. But then he began to fall. Fall into an blackness. He tried too breath once more, but it was like water. Thick, cold, suffocating water. He swam, but didn't move. _

_Then he felt an cold hand around his arm. He looked in panic too the one that grabbed him. John. "It's okay, Sherlock." He said and bubbles came out of his mouth. "John, no! Don't talk, you'll die!" John let go and drove into darkness. He looked too Sherlock smiling. Why did he smile? _

_He felt panic. He swam as fast as he could, too only save John. "John!-" _

He opened his eyes. White light. Bleeping. He blinked and tried to breath. He panicked when he couldn't. He tried to get the thing out of his throat. He couldn't think straight, where was he? Why was it so white? There was one thing he could answer. Who did this too him. Moriarty. "Sherlock!" Someone yelled and there popped up heads around his vision. "Sherlock stop, it's okay, stop." Someone took his trembling hands. "Someone will get that tube out of you, shh." Sherlock shook his head, now only crying. "Shhh, Sherlock, it's going to be okay," the person said, crying himself too.

**so here it is! The first chapter. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, and if i should continue. ~me**


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